


Another Dream Remains

by RavenHearted



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7932538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenHearted/pseuds/RavenHearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan's not the only one who has dreams in the aftermath. Short post-Trespasser thing because why not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Dream Remains

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I like to think he's got it bad. Like way worse than Lavellan does. She's mostly moved on by this point and he's always kinda stuck thinking about what could've been. Just to make it more painful. So fun!  
> Anyway, the inspiration struck so here's a thing. This isn't usually my thing, writing fanfic, so be gentle.

Solas knew the dream well. It was as familiar as being wrapped up in a blanket on a cold night. He knew it by the haze clouding the edges his vision, in the way the world bent and distorted in reaction to his mind. With practiced ease he knew he could manipulate it to his will, a lucid dream where he was in control. He could traverse the fantastic dreamland of the Fade, perhaps converse with a spirit, discover a new memory to distract his troubled thoughts. Instead, he let it be. 

The Fade shifted to reflect the raw emotion of its slumbering visitor. When the fog shifted, he stood within the halls of Skyhold. For a mere reflection, the likeness was remarkable. He recognized the winding staircase that spiraled up into the keep’s high reaches. Long shadows crawled on the walls as late afternoon light slowly vanished, replaced by small candles in the wall sconces. It was the likeness of the keep he knew with the Inquisition, not before, in the midst of restoration. Heaps of wood, stone, and brick were piled on the floor, with construction tools scattered about. The reconstruction appeared to be almost finished. His stomach sank. The Fade was rebuilding what happened in the later, tumultuous days.

In slow, careful steps he ascended the staircase. Crisp mountain air whistled through the breezeway, bringing with it the scent of pines. The dull roar felt ominous as he approached the darkened door of the main chambers. From beneath, the air brushed his feet. She always kept the windows open. Knowing how it went with common dreams, he imagined the worst that could happen if he entered the room. No doubt he would be met with ice cold anger and a curt greeting with an undertone that screamed  _ get out.  _  But it was his expectations that shaped the dream. The Fade could respond to hope as well as fear.

After taking a long, deep breath, he raised his hand and gently rapped his knuckles on the door. A few quiet seconds passed before her muffled voice came from behind the door.  _ Come in.  _ It made his heart leap to hear it, even though it was not truly her. Slowly, he twisted the knob. The squealing of the hinges rang in his ears. When he entered, the room was lit by the sinking sun and a few thick candles perched on her desk. The breeze from the open windows left the air cool but not unbearably so. She rarely spent much time in her room other than to sleep and spend the occasional moment alone. It was immaculate. The only sign she had been there was the pile of books beside her bed and the clutter of papers on her desk. A small collection of bird feathers sat on her bedside table.

Aryll was standing over her desk, chair pushed to the side, both hands pressed against the flat surface. Two hands. Beneath the candlelight he could see the mark faintly glow soft green. Of course it wouldn’t show any different. This was how he remembered her, not knowing what she looked like now, after losing most of her arm below the elbow. Her dark ginger hair was loose on her shoulders. looking like fire in the evening sunlight. Dark circles shadowed her soft green eyes. Her mouth was drawn tight in concentration, her eyes focused on the papers in front of her. He had to remind himself it was only a reflection. But the likeness was astounding.

When he crossed the threshold, she glanced up from her work. Her face was hard, stern, brow furrowed, yet her eyes could not hide the exhaustion lurking behind them. It was the same expression she bore when they were reunited. The face of someone who had been hurt, and in the wake of the pain hardened themselves against emotion lest it become too much to bear. It had struck him so deeply, seeing what the years had made her. Aryll was supposed to be warm, compassionate, always with a tender thoughtfulness in her eyes and a pleasant smile on her face. One look at her was all it took to feel safe. This was something darker. A shell of who she had been. And he knew that much of it was his fault.

Yet after regarding him for a moment, her gaze softened. “Solas,” was her curt greeting. “What can I do for you?”

He watched her for a moment, trying to read her expression and finding nothing. There was no telling when the Fade had placed him. Was her cold indifference borne out of exhaustion or a broken heart? All he wanted was to see her again, hear her voice, but he had to admit that seeing her smile again would be welcome. Tentative, with hands clasped behind his back, he replied, “Still hard at work, I see.”

Her shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh and she ran her fingers through her hair. The ghost of a smile graced her face. It was something. “Well, these reports aren’t going to read themselves.”

He took a few steps forward, finding it easy to slip into the casual, unassuming stance he was so comfortable taking.

“Perhaps you should take a moment to rest?” There were so many times he wanted to remove her from her work for her own well-being. Everyone could see the weariness seeping into her bones, but Aryll’s resolve was unbreakable. It was one of the things he admired most about her.

Aryll crossed her arms and gave him a familiar look; the corner of her lips upturned, brows slightly raised. An indicator of her good humor. ”Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

He smiled gently, wanting to believe this vision was real. “Yes, but you’ve been up here for hours.”

Then, she laughed. A genuine, soft, laugh. Something the real Aryll must rarely do. “For you, I’ll allow five minutes.”  

In a few graceful steps she left the desk behind her and nodded for him to follow her to the balcony. She placed her arms on the thick railing and leaned forward, appearing rejuvenated by the mountain air and the remaining sunlight. Some of her ginger waves fluttered in the breeze. He longed to touch them, tuck them behind her ears, but he kept his distance.

“So, was there something you needed, or did you just come to play mother hen?” By the dim light in her eyes, he knew she spoke in jest. Before, she had always been glad to spend time with him, whatever the reason.

“The latter,” he replied, mimicking her tone. It made the warmth return to her face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re looking out for me then  _ mamae.”  _ He couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

“Although, there was something I wanted to tell you.” There it was, the serious tone that inevitably returned when he spoke with her, reminding him of the heavy reality that awaited him.

Aryll noticed, and her smile fell somewhat. “Oh?”

There had been a lot he wanted to tell her then. The truth, to begin with. She of all people deserved to know. There were many things about her that made him want to. Yet he was afraid of how she would respond. And a part of him speculated that the ending would have been the same. The dream would only replicate what he expected her reaction to be. Now that Aryll knew the truth, there was only one thing he wanted her to know more. And perhaps the only way he could tell her was in a dream.

He took her marked hand in his own, briefly pondering how she was getting along without it. She was tenacious. But Aryll loved to climb, to see the world from different perspectives, to hold a bow in her hand  and protect that which she held dear. She could no longer do those things. He saw a slight pink color grace her cheeks when he lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss upon it.

“I love you, Aryll. I want you to always remember that.”

There was no mistaking the surprise written clearly on her face. He had never truly said it to her, and he feared that he never will. She allowed her hand to linger in his, wrapping her fingers lightly around his own, as if she meant to pull away.

“What brought this on?” she said. The hard, stern tone crept back into her voice. Even this dream Aryll anticipated him leaving again and was putting up the walls in preparation.

“Nothing. I simply want you to know how important you are to me.” At that, the ice in her gaze melted, replaced by the warm look she used to give him.

She slid into his arms, wrapping her own around him in a soft embrace, burying her face in the wool cloth of his shirt. “In that case, I love you too.”

He returned the embrace, running a hand through her silken hair. He relished in the achingly familiar scent of lavender and honey, reminding him of the days they spent curled up beside each other, sharing knowledge and stories.

When he awoke, several minutes passed before he realized the weight of her in his arms was a mere illusion. He knew the dream well, but sometimes it was all too easy to give in. 


End file.
